Stigma Love's Algorithm [ A BTS x Reader Poly ]

Chapter 85: Need like Prayer 🔥

I grunt, slowing the rhythm just long enough to drag it out again, hips rolling deep, grinding in circles that make him scream.

"You'll feel me every time you sit down. Every time you move. And you'll remember exactly who you belong to."

"You," he sobs.

"I belong to you-Daddy, please, please-"

"Such a good fucking boy," I growl.

"You want more?"

He nods, frantic. "Yes-yes, please-"

"My slut wants more?"

"Yours," he gasps.

"I'm yours-please-use me-don't stop-"

I slam in again, harder, faster, chasing the sound of his moans like they're keeping me alive.

My control is fraying, unraveling with every desperate cry, every bounce of his hips against mine.

And just when I know he's close-on the edge, trembling like he's about to break completely-

I flip him like he weighs nothing-just muscle and heat and desperation.

He lands on top of me, thighs spread wide over my lap, his chest heaving, arms trembling from the effort to hold himself upright.

"Be a good slut," I growl, grabbing his jaw, fingers pressing into his flushed cheeks.

"Show Daddy how you ride."

He whimpers, pupils blown wide, sweat glistening on his chest as he sinks down-slow, torturous, the head of my cock dragging against his rim until he gasps.

"Oh my god-"

he chokes, head tilting back, eyes fluttering shut as he eases down inch by inch.

"That's it," I snarl, voice rough, hands gripping his hips.

"Take it slow. Feel every fucking inch stretch you open."

He lets out this broken little moan that shoots straight through my spine.

"Don't you dare rush this," I hiss.

"You're not here to get off-you're here to please me."

He nods frantically, lips parted, already wrecked.

And he starts to move-grinding, hips rolling with desperate, aching slowness, dragging himself up just to drop again.

I watch him-devour him with my eyes.

The way his body trembles, how his thighs shake with the effort, how his cock bounces untouched between us, leaking, flushed, neglected.

"Look at you," I sneer.

"Riding Daddy like a good little whore. Fucking yourself dumb on my cock."

He moans-loud, uncontrollable, grinding harder like my words are fueling him.

"You like that? Being called Daddy's whore?"

I taunt, smacking his ass, the crack echoing.

"That what you want to be, baby? My little toy to use however I want?"

"Yes," he sobs. "Yes-please-use me-"

"Then earn it," I growl.

"Make me feel good. Make me believe you deserve it."

He slams down harder now, his rhythm wild and chaotic, and I can tell-he's chasing it.

He's close.
Too close.

I grab his hips, stop him dead mid-thrust.

"No," I bark. "Not yet."

He cries out-desperate, straining against my grip, but I don't budge.

"You think you get to come just because you want to? Because your slutty cock is leaking like a faucet?"

I laugh, dark and low. "You don't get to come until I say so."

"Yoongi-Daddy-please, I-I need-"

"You need?" I echo, mocking him.

"You need? You don't even know what need is."

I slap his ass again-harder-and he shudders around me.

"You'll ride this cock until you can't see straight," I growl.

"Until your legs give out. Until you beg me to let you come, and even then... maybe I won't."

He moans-screams-as I start thrusting up into him from below, hard, punishing, using his body like he's mine.

Because he is.

His hands claw at my chest, nails dragging down my skin, mouth hanging open, his words dissolving into gasps.

"Fuck-fuck-Daddy-"

I grab a fistful of his hair, yank his head back so he's forced to look at me.

"You're gonna ride me until your thighs burn, until your voice is gone, until the only name left on your tongue is mine. Got it?"

He nods, mouth trembling.

"Yes-yes-Daddy, I'll be good-"

"You better be," I growl, flipping him into a brutal rhythm-one where I drive up, and he slams down, my cock hitting so deep he chokes on every thrust.

He's crying now-begging between moans.
I let him hover-right on the edge-just there.

And every time he starts to slip too close, I slow it. I grip his hips. I stall. I watch him unravel.

"Not yet," I whisper, voice venom and honey. "You don't deserve it yet."

He's wrecked. Utterly ruined. Sweat pouring, body trembling, his rhythm failing, his mind breaking under the pressure.

Still, he rides me.
Still, he obeys.

Because he wants to.
Because he knows I own him.

And I'm going to keep him teetering on that edge until he's sobbing.